In a Dead Heat
by All and Sundry
Summary: "Why?" She felt rather than heard him react to her question, the all too familiar curve of his lips against her skin. It shouldn't be that simple but it was, her insides felt as if they were melting. All for this expression of his. What it meant. "Ice cream's only fitting for the occasion." : PWP. Written for Ishizu's birthday.


I have skittered out from under the rock I call home to bring you, well, whatever the hell this is in honour of Ishizu's birthday… Musical inspiration was _La Roux_. Rating is for exactly what you want. Title is lame as fuck, what can I say I'm not clever.

Do enjoy!

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**. : In a Dead Heat : .**

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"Alright, I'm done."

A sigh. A growl. A demand all in one.

Soft chiming thuds. Thin lengths of chain. A necklace bought a birthday past.

Black peeled from crème then stuck, his arms up as the neck appeared to be giving him some trouble. Of course it was the irritated grunts that caught her attention, she'd have said, long before the rest…

Obliques. How _explicit_. A pair of light lines that angled and eased lower into long grooves half hidden by his pants right down to—

His shirt dropped on the floor atop the metal already there with a perceptible slap.

He had enough sense to keep his pants on at least, she noticed. There should be someone by any moment now, after all and she'd rather not have had to explain why the body accompanying a household name was suddenly on display.

Though what of it was…

Straight back up from the one belt he was far too fond of were contours, faint swells and dips rising into smooth plateaus. Pectorals. Atop the centre, the hollow of his neck was framed with the hard lines of his collar bone, there then disappearing before reaching broad shoulders rounded firmly into deltoid muscle, from here a smooth into biceps and rest clear down to his hands…

He was good with his hands.

She had played absent spectator and watched him take apart a variety of things, fingers carefully slipping into grooves and prying then at other times gripping hard and, with practiced movements of his wrist, breaking something clean in half.

Which of the two he wished to employ now on the AC unit was a guess but she had a feeling it was towards the latter. This was the reason for it all, the heat, to deliver the sight of unexpected sections of skin.

It was almost absurd in the way he gleamed under the telltale sheen. The same her fingers found as they grazed the back of her own neck, pulling then twisting her hair up into a perfectly messy bun and fixing the clip back in.

"Just tell me where it is."

"No." Ishizu cleared her throat. "It's connected to the whole floor. If your tinkering breaks it even further..."

He turned to better offer what she had to assume was a glare, she briefly noticed, before eyes fell quickly to catch the faint ripple under his skin, muscle shifting to facilitate movement. Only through distance was she reassured, he wouldn't be able to tell she'd drawn her lower lip between her teeth.

"You realise I could buy the whole damn complex," he stated in the way he tended to do so with serious questions. Running a hand along the back of his head, he then hesitated and dragged it against his thigh with a grimace. Sweat.

Had his hair always been that long..? Plenty long enough to thread through her fingers and tug…

"Be reasonable." Her voice was as calm as ever.

His hands rose and it took her longer than necessary to process the fact that the careless movement, the heavy clack against the floor, meant he'd taken off his belt.

It required effort to force her gaze back to her book.

_In this way, social constructs of the present differ in comparison to that of the ancient times..._

"You may be used to living on the surface of the sun but I'm not."

A sigh issued from her. There was no point in arguing. She could tolerate this kind of heat little more than he could, the short dress she wore making this evident. At least she had the decency not to complain. The temperature wasn't pleasant but whomever was supposed to begin repairs should arrive soon then they could go on about the day. There was the matter of a lunch date to attend to.

A fan might have helped but she'd never felt the need to buy one.

Settled into one end of the couch, she flipped a page in the book laid against her bent knees, uncaring of what it meant view-wise, and attempted to resume the reading he kept interrupting with complaints. Maybe a distraction would help.

"There's ice cream in the freezer."

Tell tale clinks drifted in. Of dishes and dishware. Then all was quiet.

She didn't hear him step back into the living room as his boots had been the first to go but a quiet chime brought her eyes up.

He pulled a spoon out of his mouth, lips still parted, but she beat him to it.

"In the refrigerator door. Bottom shelf."

He turned. Around the spoon back in his mouth, there was a murmur which sounded suspiciously like a thank you.

Maybe the heat had already fried her brain.

_In comparison to modern day societies, women in this ancient time were granted highly significant recognition. Equality amidst men and women was…_

While the lines were interesting in and of themselves, the subject was in her memory by now as well as if it had been carved there… _Carved_… Not unlike the man stalking around the apartment a little less than decent...

Nothing could happen. Nothing intimate, that was. The heat was already nearly unbearable.

Only vaguely did she notice him return with a spoon where it had been before, bowl in one hand and a bottle in another. The latter was placed on the table nearby and he settled into the other end of the couch, dragging a pillow into his lap to place the bowl atop, of course.

_Amidst the abundance of deities, there existed many goddesses. Studying the significance of female deities aids in conveying the view of women held by the Ancient Egyptian people. There were many influential goddesses yet one..._

Over the top of her book, she looked, absently eyeing the label wrapped around the bottle.

She called these his "human moments". Ones where he didn't seem to emulate an ice sculpture somehow blessed with the gift of speech but was instead a living, breathing person complete with his own quirks.

She'd only just learned in recent days about his great obsession with caramel. This was the reason she'd gone tracking down the variety of syrup currently on the table. Never mind that he was the reason there wasn't any chocolate to go along with it.

Her eyes followed, watching as the condiment was added in formless pattern over vanilla, gaze unwittingly lingering when he lifted the utensil and sucked the confection off the rounded end.

"What?" he growled.

It was all she could do not to take the tone out of context.

Her eyes flicked up to find his narrowed.

That was the thing about Seto's human moments. He preferred they go unnoticed and, to be fair, they generally did. Except…

"May I?"

She had expected him to hand it over. Instead, there was a spoon suddenly in front of her mouth. The gesture might have been sweet if she didn't know him well enough. Either he suspected she'd fail to give it back or… She'd opened her mouth and it wasn't until a mix slid across her tongue, bright vanilla and smooth caramel, that she realised which of the two it was.

The twitch playing at the corner of his mouth was met with a duo of lowering brows and a small frown. In a moment, she'd snatched the bit of silver and allowed her smile to become one of mock sympathy which said everything to the effect of "_go get another one_".

It was hot and he'd been annoying... _frustrating_... her all afternoon. Further, she disliked being used for his perverse amusements and Gods be damned, she should have the right to be a little petty every once in a while.

"Ishizu stop being such a child."

He was right of course. She should stop.

Whatever.

With an offending ring, the spoon clattered on the floor where she'd tossed it.

After this, there was a lapse into silence. Her reading was then undeterred in the absence of soft clinks, metal against ceramic.

_She was known as Isis, patroness of nature and magic. Through her, the principles of life and death were connected..._

Suddenly a gasp sounded.

She shuddered. The sudden patch of cold along her chest wasn't entirely unwelcome but… He was no less ridiculous for having put it there… Of course, it was already melting and the thought of having to wash ice cream off her skin was just another thing to add to the list of annoyances.

Letting the book drop slowly into her lap, she kept still, hoping the impending trailing would stop if she didn't move. Honestly, such silly retaliation over having stolen a spoon.

A reprimand had been in her mind as she carefully looked up.

"That was incredibly childish, Seto. Get me something to—"

She watched.

His tongue moved in a final flick against his own digits. And when it disappeared behind his lips, she felt heat smooth over every part of her.

The bowl and the rest were somehow absent.

The moment would have passed and all might have been well and fine… if not for the way his eyes slid down away from hers.

And before she could think to object, his tongue was there. Warm and slick across her skin in a way his lips were not. Like that, her breath was gone, lessening steadily just as the melted ice cream was.

He was slow and thorough.

Her nails scratched slowly at the fabric of the couch, throat working to swallow any noise that dared rise here.

"Why?"

She felt rather than heard him react to her question, the all too familiar curve of his lips against her skin.

It shouldn't be that simple but it was, her insides felt as if they were melting. All for this expression of his. What it meant.

"Ice cream's only fitting for the occasion."

It was only him who could cloud her mind as quickly as a summer thunderstorm. Wicked thoughts atremble like thunder. Bolts of lighting were his sparks, the things he did to evoke pleasure. Like the darkness of his voice, communicating whatever words he might say alongside the unspoken ones. This time…

_The things I'm going to do to you._

And...

"I saw you staring earlier."

"I was not staring," she was quick to argue, clinging to what thread of sensibility conversation might offer.

Her dismissal was met with a simple hum of acknowledgment that she'd spoken. He didn't believe her and so digressed in the argument. With slow purpose, his tongue eased up the line of her breasts pressed together.

Once.

Again.

Her vision dimmed as heat brimmed over, beginning to collect like rainwater into flowers, dew dotting along soft petals.

"First thing I thought of."

He wasn't making sense. But then, it was too hot for anything to have made sense.

"What?" she breathed.

"Caramel ice cream in two scoops."

"Wh…" her lips puckered though sound trailed. Surely he wasn't talking about... "What do you mean?"

"What do you think?" he murmured.

He was being so _stupid_… and vulgar… and damn the way his mind worked.

In her silence, he made a curving path up her chest to the corner of her mouth.

"You're blushing."

It was by warmth that he knew rather than by colour.

Hearing the fact aloud only drew greater attention to it, of course.

"Shy all of a sudden?" he stated with a disapproving click of his tongue.

A moment of silence lapsed.

"Don't you want to play..?" As he'd spoken, he struggled with his expression just as she soon did.

The words were a lock awaiting a key.

"I do."

Ishizu reached up and pushed him back.

But he was after an early strike, mouth opening as he settled onto couch. "Earlier you looked like you were going to lick me if I stood there long enough."

Just as she had during said visual exploration, the inside of her lip was drawn between her teeth and she bit softly. The little motion paused the instant she saw. In response, a curve played at the corner of his mouth.

The man had _such_ pliant lips. Perfect for so many things...

Swallowing as if the action would take away mounting desire, she then blurted. "Then why didn't you stay?" When his brows rose, questioning, she explained. "If you thought I was going to then why didn't you stay instead of going to the kitchen?"

"You wouldn't have actually done it."

He was always issuing challenges...

"I will in a moment."

From the lean, he eased back, form curving up against the corner, half propped up by couch pillows and all blatant invitation.

Without a word, she sat up, book sliding to the floor where it landed with a thud.

In a thrill, a shiver dragged down her spine. He tended not to allow her to tease when he could help it. Not that it ever stopped her. Not that it would stop her now. After all he'd done to frustrate her, multiple ways, it was time to treat him to a little of the same.

She could see the wheels spinning beyond the gaze he fixed on her. It was like him to try and figure out what she was up to. Of course, if he had been able to, to guess from the way fingers played about thighs, slipped under the skirt of her own dress, then he might have stopped her.

Her eyes closed in a flutter. Breath left her lungs in a shudder. All for teasing herself. For memory. Fingers against damp fabric in imitation of his. The ways he had done this before. The ways she had remembered doing before, when he was away.

Only she wasn't to be satisfied with memory this time. Her eyes opened.

He had opened his mouth now, likely to tell her stop playing around, but then so had she...

"Seto..." his name was warmth and quiet sound.

He rose from his proud slouch. But the moment she felt him reach...

"Ah-ah," she chastised, drawing away where he'd begun to pull her in. "I told you…" She couldn't resist dotting kisses against his lips every so often. "That I… would do it… I still intend to."

He cleared his throat, barely masking what she was certain had been some audible protest to her retreat. Though his fingers began to play at the ends of her dress, she pressed them away. Or tried to. He reached again, forthcoming in his wants.

"Let me touch you."

She wanted both. To delay him and to let him. All at once. Halfway in opening her mouth to object, she realised she couldn't. And then she _was_ objecting. To the hands on her chest. He would hear none of it. She said what she said but there were no hands raised to stop his tearing straps and fabric down to her stomach.

Hypocrisy was bitten off by a gasp the moment mouth met skin. Then breaths interrupted by sounds for all the teasing, every flick of his tongue against one bead of flesh, fingers playing with the other. Then he shifted, started anew.

Something inside pulsed.

Nails danced up along his chest, earned what she'd desired of him, pause. Just like that, she could think again. Each thought. Stained red.

Flattening a palm against his chest, she pressed just enough for him to get the hint and lie back once again. Of course he resisted and she gave up on the notion, trusting him to piece things together soon enough.

"Patience is a virtue..." she chided breathlessly.

It required conscious effort not to break into a grin when he scowled in turn but didn't speak, eyes burning into hers. Still, he lay back. And she was not sure which came as more of a surprise. That he was complicit so quickly or rather that he was quiet about it.

The desire to make him articulate flourished where it took root.

Grasping handfuls of her dress, she pulled it off over her head. It was a pool over the jagged patterns of woodgrain as she sat there in nothing but pale swirls of lace wrapping around her hips.

Then reaching aside, she took up the forgotten bottle of caramel and neared.

"What—"

He never got the rest of the words out.

She'd begun a long, winding line down his chest then carefully set the bottle back on the coffee table.

And sitting back, she leaned over him, pressed her tongue to his skin and tasted. Sweat and confection. Salt and sugar.

She felt shapes. Clefts. Their twitch under a kiss near one hip.

Ever so slowly up.

He learned her gratitude and answered with his own. Lone sound. Increasing. Fainter. With more breaths between, the planes holding her attention rising and falling steadily faster. Pleasure turned in dizzying spirals.

This taste and the _sound _ of him.

She was greedy.

He didn't want her to but couldn't tell her. Not to take her time. Fingers at the back of her neck grasped and fell lax. Over and over. She had decided what to do with her own, stroking over the closure of his pants.

He couldn't keep still.

He was too distracted, too taken with lust washing over in waves.

Sounds were like rumbles of a slow-approaching storm. All the closer with her head at his chest. Rising slowly to his level until every bit was gone save the last, rich line up his sternum which she swiped up with a finger. It was worth a little mess to watch him watch her. Raising her hand to her lips, her tongue swirled purposefully around the single digit.

Caramel could only have been found staining her tongue then.

He looked as if he wanted to devour her, gaze rising from her hand to her eyes, then descending once more to rest on her lips. Shadow conveyed motion along his neck, made known the desire to taste.

The thought made her stomach twist with perverse glee.

He was a most beautiful mess and she sat back to admire. Shadow and gleams, either by her doing or his own, all over his body. Reacting to her. His desires having buried pride. Sensible thought. His gaze up at her dark. Alive. With unfulfilled need.

He couldn't even find the words to express it.

"Shy all of a sudden..?" she prompted silkily and licked her lips.

She had no sooner drawn the muscle behind her them than his accompanied it.

His groan seemed to reverberate all through her, fresh heat pouring in slowly. Adding. Where it was already spilling over.

She felt his hands all over. His indecision. Fevered inability to chose what of her he wanted in his grasp first. Her own buried into his hair as her head tilted, her fixation his tongue slick over every part of her mouth. His quest not only for the confection but rather the taste of it and her.

Together.

She wanted the both of them together. More.

Their legs moved, hers shifting together and his allowing her between as he leaned back. Fluidly they drew together. At her rear, hands caressed hastily. Gripped. Pulled as she pressed her forward into the space between and lay against him.

A hum bled. Her sound into his.

Knuckles were points pushing at her stomach, forcing between sweat painted skin, lower between fabric. His and hers. He worked at a zipper with the two of them stubbornly too close... and all the noisier for shared friction...

Hands abandoned his hair, clawing at the couch for grip and finding leverage enough to part her legs around his, push herself up then against him. Against the hand he'd fit between the both of them.

Her name slipped from him in a hiss. He couldn't get his hand out of the way fast enough or, then, the pair of them at her hips firmly enough.

Sounds overlapped. Rumbles of distant storms converging.

Conversing.

Quivering.

Passing kiss-swollen lips was nonsense. Frustrated articulations in pleasure. Arabic. Mere sound. None of it the right words. None of it enough.

She slipped away, limbs a quick entanglement in peeling the last bit of her own clothing off and eyes greedy. _Hungry_. Watching flickers under his skin as he shed the rest of his clothing. The whole of it fell off the couch and she was upon him once more.

His fingers dug into her thighs. Pulling. Words spilled coherently where hers wouldn't have. Don't. Wait. For him to gain his bearings, guide her down. But she could navigate well enough on her own. And he realised this was what she intended so he fought. Dirty. Rolled his hips up into hers and gained what he wanted, pause. In the next moment, he took her wrists.

A growl rolled up her throat and she sat up straight.

Haphazardly.

Cries, one after the other, sounded as the two of them hit the floor.

"Seto," she hissed up at him, chest heaving. "Get off."

The pause was more than unwelcome and him above her now even more so. Her annoyance was all but ignored, hips pressing between quivering legs. By anger and more. To give in or—

"Gladly."

A brush had her shuddering. Fingers twitched for the thought to grasp and the failure to. He still had her wrists pressed to the floor along with the rest of her.

Passing her lips was a cry. "Please."

_Stop. _

_Hurry up. _

He smothered the rest of her words in a kiss. Consumed the whines to follow. Intermixed with lurid noise where they met. In time with each slow grind. His hips into hers. And just necessary contact. Lips and teeth together -

Then suddenly apart when he jerked back, a hand touching to his own lips where she'd bitten.

Against the floor, the feet of the coffee table scraped and ceramic clattered dully as the piece was bumped inadvertently aside.

She was poised over him.

"Game over."

Fingers wrapped around him for a moment, just long enough to sure he would be there. Where she needed him. Then she fell. Slowly. And they erupted in a bright chorus. Trembling praise for what it was. To have her enveloping. Warm. Velvet. Shivering like he was within her. Thick. Perfect.

He sat up. Just to see her eyes. The way her lashes fluttered and she couldn't decide whether she wanted to see or close her eyes. It would be the latter. Eyes snapping shut as her features twisted with pleasure. With his grasping her backside and pulling her down that much further. Harder. When she began to rock against him.

Slowly.

Each reunion sparking.

Heat shot up in rivulets, shivered around her lungs and pressed a sigh past her lips. Thick. Wanting. His hand smoothing along her throat. Reverently. As if grateful for the channel. For the sound pouring into his eager ears.

She buried a hand into his hair. Twisted dark strands into her grasp as she tugged his head back if only to better look at him looking at her.

She was… She'd always been so beautiful. Every inch of her dark skin. Her face. Sleek hair mussed and falling over her shoulders. Kiss-swollen lips parted, a smile flicking across. Soft as it was bright. His hand smoothed up the curve of her back. Fingers dipping into the pair shallow indents there then dragging up. Grasping at her shoulderblade when she rocked against him. Held her. Lifted up into her whenever she pressed down around him. Felt her body curve over and over. Undulations smooth. Perfect in rhythm for a moment then breaking apart. Slowly. Faster. Until he gave up, let her move. Guide them both. The sound of them louder. Stumbling.

Final.

As they were joined in a rush of heat. Vibrant. Inexplicable and familiar.

In glittering afterglow they were still a long moment, chests pushing against one another as they only just started to catch lost breath. She rose carefully and came to sit next to him, back against the couch and nearly shivering at the fullness of it all through her. Euphoria. Settling into her bones along with the best sort of weariness.

Some moments later, he'd pulled her to her feet with some words about a shower and the reservations they were surely late for. They were long gone and the apartment relatively quiet when everything started to hum and the panel for the AC controls flicked on.

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**. : End : .**

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Thanks for reading this silliness. I hope you enjoyed it.


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